


day and night pass, taking our youth with them

by agentrhiannon



Series: light, and a promise [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Character Study, F/M, Golden Deer Route, Spoilers for Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 07:49:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21352756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentrhiannon/pseuds/agentrhiannon
Summary: On the eve of the millennium celebration, Claude did not sleep.It was long past midnight when he landed at the base of the Goddess Tower. Somehow—miraculously—it looked exactly the same as he remembered from the last time he was here. Just the way it was on that night five years ago.In which Claude returns to the monastery, and he waits.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Series: light, and a promise [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1539346
Comments: 3
Kudos: 149





	day and night pass, taking our youth with them

On the eve of the millennium celebration, Claude did not sleep.

He had made camp that night about an hour’s flight from the monastery, unable to face the prospect of arriving alone amid the rubble. But he tossed and turned on the rocky ground, staring up at the branches above his head, and he knew sleep wasn’t coming, no matter how many times he told his brain to shut up. So he roused his wyvern and made his way to the monastery.

It was long past midnight when he landed at the base of the Goddess Tower. Though it was one of the few structures left standing after the invasion, a wyvern’s weight and claws probably would not do the roof any favors. There were no signs of activity, but he drew his bow just in case as he entered the dark tower and began to climb.

He let out a heavy breath as he reached the top of the tower. Somehow—miraculously—it looked exactly the same as he remembered from the last time he was here. Just the way it was on that night five years ago.

_ The wind in her hair—eyes closed as her head lilted, almost imperceptibly, to the music— _

As leader of the Alliance, he had precious little time to think of anything but war. His days were consumed by battle strategies, reinforcements, training, civilian relief efforts, and keeping bickering nobles in line and on his side. Mostly, it was easy to stay focused on the task at hand and leave memories in the past where they belonged. But here, now, at the top of the Goddess Tower in the abandoned monastery, he felt completely and utterly alone for the first time in years. With no one to interrupt him and hours until dawn, the dam burst, and images of the last time he was within these walls came flooding in.

How many times since that night had he remembered it exactly, running over every detail until it was seared in his memory? How many times had he wished he could turn back time and do it right? How many times had he dreamed of her lips on his—imagined his fingers in her hair, on her neck—his arms so tight around her waist she couldn’t disappear? He had lost count.

Claude leaned on the balcony and breathed in the cool night air, watching the stars for the first time in what felt like eons. He had no time for stargazing anymore—not with a war on. He needed every snatch of sleep he could get. But now, gazing up at the night sky, he felt in his bones how immense the universe was, and he felt starlight seeping into his skin, and his problems didn’t seem so overwhelming. To the stars, what was a war? What were stubborn people, closed borders, hard hearts? Not even a blip.

Some people might have found that insignificance frightening, but not him. When he looked out at the stars—impossibly bright, impossibly far, impossibly infinite, yet existing all the same—other impossible things started to seem possible too.

_ Like her. Impossible, but existing anyway. Making the impossible seem within reach. _

He hadn’t realized how fully he had come to depend on her presence until she was gone.

Dawn came slowly. The stars faded. The sky lightened as the sun, out of sight, inched closer to the horizon. Comfort and ambition waned; the reality of war trickled back. He saw, for the first time since the invasion, how great the destruction of Garreg Mach had really been: walls crumbled, towers collapsed, greenhouse walls shattered, the fish pond full of muck. In the distance, he could see the village—or where it had once been. When the great chasm had opened up, seemingly out of nowhere, half the village had fallen into it, along with—

Saints, it had been awful.

He had not wept when she fell. The others did—because who, _ who _ could have survived that? But he refused to mourn. He didn’t know how—for once, he didn’t have a single viable theory—but he knew she was still alive.

Or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

Time went on—first weeks, then months, now years—and still, she didn’t come back. He kept telling himself, even when all hope was gone, even when deep down something whispered to give up, that she must still be alive. She would be back. He just had to keep waiting. His hope was the only thing pushing him forward, and without it, he was afraid he might just… stop. 

If he was being honest, this trip was the last gasp of that hope.

If she didn’t come back for the millennium celebration—if she couldn’t keep that promise to her students, her friends—then, he thought, she never would. If she didn’t come back now, he thought, he didn’t know what he would do.

He had not wept when she fell, but now, looking out over the abandoned village, the gaping chasm, the monastery in ruins, sorrow swept over him and threatened to drag him under. He felt like a drowning man fighting for air, grasping at anything that might keep him afloat.

_ “I really hope we meet here again someday.” _

When the sun finally broke above the horizon, Claude closed his eyes against the light and prayed.

_ I know it’s been a while, dear goddess, but… Please. Let me meet her again. We need her. _ He paused, then admitted, _ I need her. Now more than ever. _

And maybe it was a sign from the goddess, or maybe it was fate, or maybe it was sheer coincidence, but at that moment, he heard a rustle behind him.

Claude’s heart stopped.

_ It can’t be. _

He opened his eyes. Something flickered at the edge of his vision.

He turned, and a figure stepped from the shadows.

She looked… _ exactly _ the same.

Not just in the way of meeting old friends after years apart, and it seems time hasn’t touched them at all. She looked utterly as he remembered her, from the length and curl of her hair to the rips in her leggings and the scuff marks on her boots. It was as if she had stepped out of his memories and into the Goddess Tower in front of him.

Which was, of course, impossible.

_ Very funny, goddess. _

“So,” he said, forcing a brightness into his voice, leaning back against the balcony wall, “are you a ghost come to torment me for my failures, or a hallucination because I haven’t slept all night?”

She blinked, slowly. “Neither, I think.”

“Mmm,” he nodded, mock serious, ignoring the part of his brain that said talking to a figment of his imagination was not a great indicator of his mental state. “Impressive how five years of brutal war have left you untouched. You’ll have to tell me your secret.”

Her brow furrowed. “That man said the same thing. I thought he must be joking—but the monastery—and you—” She broke off, looking the way he felt when he woke up after sleeping too long.

She was ethereal—hair like starlight, eyes like the moon, and more lovely than he remembered. In spite of himself, even though she couldn’t possibly be real, he found he couldn’t look away. She haunted his dreams, but he’d never thought she would _ actually _ come back to haunt him. He couldn’t bring himself to speak again, suddenly worried that he might dispel the vision.

Until she stepped closer and placed a hand on his cheek.

He started to shake.

“Claude?” Byleth said, eyes searching his face, concerned. “What happened?”

He lifted his hand to hers, feeling each finger, warm and undeniably alive.

_ Impossible, but existing anyway. _

“You’re real.” His voice was rough. “You’re here.”

She stroked his cheek with her thumb. Her face melted into a small, mournful smile.

“You grew a beard.”

He folded her in his arms, quaking with relief. She felt solid and real, and he would hold her for as long as it took to convince himself she was really here. He gave a silent prayer of thanks.

They held each other as the sun rose and a new day dawned.

**Author's Note:**

> Because I wasn't satisfied with their reunion in-game. Not enough ANGST (╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻
> 
> I intended for this piece to be able to stand on its own, but I originally wrote it as part of a much longer fic, which I'm publishing in a series instead of chapters because each part is quite different tonally. Read part 1 for fluff (and the kiss Claude is remembering here) and part 3 for something with a semblance of plot lol.
> 
> Also I'm terrible at tagging?? Please let me know in comments if there's anything I should add.
> 
> (title from "Little Star" by Carl Holmquist. Supposedly the text is from a Galician poem, but I can't find it written anywhere. You can listen to it [here](https://soundcloud.com/carlholmquistcomposer/little-star) or [here](https://open.spotify.com/track/5ouRNWdBcagPYEKDe82tLc?si=QahlY4oMQWesy6m4IqSeeA). The lines that stood out to me for Claudeleth are the one in the title and: "I wish I could be as high / as that northern star / to see where my lover is tonight / well, little star / little star, Venus / little shining star / show me where my lover is tonight.")


End file.
